Frozen Out
by DavusLuna
Summary: Hey guys, this will be my first attempt at a full-length Frozen modern day AU. Pretty sure that it's fairly odd due to its first person narration, but I hope that doesn't deter you.
1. First Steps

_Arendelle Preparatory Academy, the fulfillment of my dreams_. I stared at the broad gates of the school, open before me, promising a wild four years filled with crazy parties and mountainous stacks of homework, if the rumors that had trickled down to Weselton Middle School were true. My journey to such a prestigious institute was not an easy one, but all those years of non-stop grinding on the basketball court had warranted the faith of Arendelle Prep's admission's office to extend a full scholarship. All $165,253, all four years of high school, free of charge. My moment was finally here. _I bet everybody can't wait to meet the new star of the basketball team!_

When I finally walked through the doors, I was surprised to find that a crowd had already gathered around one of the other students. Curious, I walked over to find who could have possibly caused such a stir. "- and to this day, you can't say my name around Kristen Bell." I heard, before the crowd erupted in laughter. The boy they were all crowded around was Hans Anderson, breaker of many hearts and formerly a star point guard at Southern Isles despite his small stature. The boy's talent for charming women with his looks was only matched by his intensity on the court.

Suddenly, he turned, greeting me, "Hey, Dave! You play much over the summer?"

"Uh, yeah," I muttered, looking away, "I guess I played in a few leagues."

He wrapped a muscular arm around my shoulder, saying, "Good to see you, buddy. See you at tryouts!" _Goddammit, stop being so shy_. I meekly returned the sentiment and briskly walked away_. Fuck, David. You always blow shit like this; here he is trying to be nice and you manage to make yourself looking like a fucking creep_. The rest of the day went by in a blur, each teacher more boring and inauthentic than the last, until last period history. I looked down, absorbed in my Galaxy S4, before I bumped into something, sending my phone clattering to the floor. "Hey, watch whe-" I stopped speaking instantly when I looked up. "Oop! Sorry about your phone," came the voice from above. There, before me, was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She had a slim figure, a wonderful face, complete with defined cheekbones and the cutest of noses, in addition to the most wonderful turquoise eyes, but the smile she gave me dropped my jaw. Her smile emanated light and warmth, twisting my stomach into knots. And to seal the deal, her braided auburn hair had a gorgeous streak of sandy-blonde running through it on one side. The girl was simply stunning. "Hey buddy, are you okay?" she asked inquisitively, "You look lost; want me to show you where to go?"

I blinked a few times before coldly replying, "No, I'm fine." _Do you want friends? You pussied out yet again. This fucking gorgeous girl just offered to help you out, and you're just going to send her on her way. Smooth move, Casanova._

"Alright," she replied with a smile, "I'm Anna, by the way, Anna Halvorsen." I stared blankly for a second before awkwardly stammering "C-cool." _Holy fucking shit, you faggot. You couldn't even manage to introduce yourself. She's a girl, not fucking Jesus. H. Christ._

"Wait, you're David Shields, aren't you?" she inquired, turning her head ever so slightly.

"Um, I guess I am." _Holy shit, you are so gorgeous_, I thought silently.

"No way, no way, no way!" She yelped excitedly, her eyes lighting up. "You play with the Wizards, right? I saw you ball at Nationals! You fucking cooked the competition!"

"Maybe – um – yeah, thanks," I forced the words out of my mouth.

"I have to run now, but I'm a huge fan of you guys! Here's my number; let's talk later; I love basketball" she said hurriedly, scribbling a few digits on a scrap of paper, shoving it into my hand "See ya!"

"Wow…" was all I could manage. _Maybe you aren't a total fuckup, David_, I thought to myself. _Fuck math class; I'll ace the course anyways, _I decided as I went out the doors of the school.

When I got home, I simply couldn't get the beautiful redhead off my mind. Question after question ran through my brain, _Does she like me? What does she like to do? What classes is she in? _There was no denying it; I was obsessed with this girl. I instantly thought of the scrap of paper that she had placed in my hand before running off. _Is it weird to call right after someone gives you their number? You would know if you weren't such a fucking plebe._ After toying with the idea for quite some time, I decided to try slogging through some of the seemingly endless homework I had been assigned before making a decision. _You can do science, right? You'll have no problem with Chem,_ I reassured myself, but the instant I looked at the worksheet we had been given in class, the numbers began to swim across the page, melding into each other and diving in and out of the diagrams, making it impossible for any work to be done. Exasperated, I stared at the ten digits scribbled on the paper. "Dear lord, even her handwriting is sexy as hell," I muttered to myself as I held my smartphone in the other hand. Summoning all of the scarce courage that I held, I punched in the numbers and waited for her to respond. _What do I do if she doesn't pick up? _I began to panic. _Should I leave a voicemail; do people still do that? Ohmygodohmygodohmygo-_ suddenly, a voice interrupted my inner consternation, "Hello? Who's this?" came the reply on the other end of the line. _Alright, David, please try not to fuck this conversation too badly. _

"Um… hi?" I replied. _Dumbass, you were supposed to say your name; you can't even carry a normal conversation over the phone._

"Well, hi to you too! But seriously, who are you?"

"Oh, well, it's David, we bu-"

"You actually called!" she interrupted, "So, what's on your mind?"

_Shit, you didn't actually think this out very well, did you, David? What are you going to talk about?_ A few moments of awkward silence passed, before Anna once again broke it with an inquisitive, "Well?"

_Here goes nothing, _"Um, I guess I have a basketball game this weekend. Show up… maybe, basketball… to watch?" _Wow, you couldn't even form a normal sentence. Not even one fucking normal sentence._

I heard a giggle on the other side of the phone. "Of course I'll come. When and where?"

_What. The. Actual. Fuck. Yes? "Of course I'll come"? David, you better watch yourself these next few days, because with all this good luck you've had, you're bound to be struck by lightning or some shit._ "Yeah, sorry I forgot to mention it, 4:00 at Holcombe Rucker Park."

"I'll be there! Drop forty for me!" she replied excitedly before hanging up.

Needless to say, I was excited. Beyond excited. I was fucking elated, like a coke fiend coming across Scarface's private stash. At dinner, when my parents asked why I was so giddy, I made up some bullshit about having had a great first day at school, which seemed to thoroughly satisfy them. As always, my father harped on and on, extolling the virtues of a quality education, and how success was impossible without one, and how lucky I was to be going to such a great school, on and on. However, I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to pay any attention to the man tonight. Scenarios kept flashing through my mind, nearly all of them ending in our marriage. _God, David, you barely know this girl and you're already dreaming of marrying her? Get a fucking grip and keep it in your pants._ After shoving my food around the plate for a while and carefully stealing away the carrots, later to be fed to our iguana, Sven, I was excused from the table. After dinner, the homework, which had felt impossible to do beforehand, became child's play. I devoured the readings in the history textbook, as dry as I found agricultural practices in Ancient Mesopotamia. I gleefully balanced dozens of equations, later dutifully taking notes on the start of _The Great Gatsby_, assigned in English class. As I slept, my mind was filled with wonderful dreams of Anna and our inevitable life together.

The next day, I arrived at school and caught a quick glimpse of Anna, but lost her in the wave of students rushing to their first period classes. Arriving in mine, I picked a seat near the back, planning to catch up on sleep lost to Reddit, starting ASAP. However, I was rudely awakened only five minutes into my nap when I felt a tap on my shoulder, "Mr. Shields, I don't suppose you'd be able to supply the answer to problem number 12? Or your mysterious absence from yesterday's class?"

Waking from my sleep, I was greeted by an extremely attractive platinum blonde with a porcelain complexion. Immediately regretting my decision not to come to the previous day's class, I felt the blood rushing to my face. Embarrassed, I admitted, that no, I did not know the answer and that I had no excuse for missing class.

Narrowing her eyes at me, the teacher announced, "Mr. Shields, we will have to discuss after class why it is inappropriate to check yourself out of this course. Algebraic theory is not to be trifled with."

The instant she walked away, I whispered to myself, "Damn, she's fucking smoking! I wonder what her name is…"

The disheveled boy next to me responded, "That beauty's name is Elsa. She has an equally beautiful sister that goes here, actually. I don't suppose you know Anna Halvorsen?"

_I need to get to know their mom as soon as possible._ "Um, no, sorry," I replied. _That's not totally a lie._

"Anyways, we agree on Elsa," he said, smiling, "I'm Kristoff, Kristoff Bjorgman."

"Nice to meet you Christopher," I returned absent-mindedly, my focus directed intently on the teacher's ample backside as she wrote various equations on the board.

"It's Kristoff!" he hissed.

"Cool story, bro," I said back, eyes still fixed on Elsa's wonderful ass.

The rest of the class disappeared in an Elsa-tinged haze and I stumbled out into the halls, still not quite recovered from the experience. Just as I was about to run off to History, I heard a voice call me back, "Mr. Shields!"

_Fuck, I really have to get to my next class,_ I thought as I turned back into the room. "Yes?" I responded timidly.

"I'm going to be blunt. Straighten yourself out, or I will not hesitate to make your year in my class a living hell. You've been in this class two days and have already shown disrespect to both the material and to me by checking out," she said coldly, "I will not stand for any more tomfoolery. Do we understand each other?"

"Yeah. Sure. I guess."

"Go to your next class."

_What a bitch, _I thought as I took off out of the class, looking for the stairs. Head turned, I ran straight into none other than Hans Anderson, sending both of us straight to the floor.

"Hey, hey, slow down there, Shields!" Hans chuckled, "What's the rush?"

"Um, nothing," I muttered. _Why do I have to be so weird?_

Hans shrugged, got up and left. _On to history class._


	2. Game Time

The rest of the week flew by; all that was on my mind was my game that weekend, and how I'd win Anna's heart with my performance. _You've dominated thousands of games before. Just show her how well you can play and she'll have no choice but to fall for you._ When Saturday finally rolled around, I woke up with a pep in my step. I even managed to roll out of bed before noon for the first time in _forever_. _Nobody can stop you today, David. Not even Lebron fucking James._ After wolfing down my exceedingly nutritious breakfast of a few slabs of bacon and a slice of chocolate cake and throwing on my uniform, I announced my departure to the family before taking off for the park.

Holcombe Rucker Park, or Rucker, as it's more commonly known, is one of the holiest sites in all of basketball. The court has served as a breeding ground for countless stars in the NBA and has earned a reputation for particularly fierce pick-up games. _And you're playing there now, David. Try not to be a fuck-up for 32 minutes._ Even though I got there an hour early, I could see Anna had already arrived and was standing on the sidelines, watching the ongoing game. Her short-shorts and Allen Iverson jersey left little to the imagination, revealing long, tanned legs and a hint of her toned, athletic torso. _God, she's fucking perfect. You aren't even in the same game as her; forget about her league. Shields, you better stop dreaming._ As I set down my bag, I tried to muster the courage to say something to her, but while I was looking over, she began an argument with a broad-shouldered monster of a man who had just thrown an elbow straight into the face of a tiny guard while going up for a rebound. Growing concerned, I realized just who she was taking on. _That's Chris "Marshmallow" Freeman. Bad, bad, bad idea._

"It is not nice to elbow people!" she shouted at the gargantuan man.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch." he snarled, turning from the man whose nose he had just broken to the redhead, "This is a man's game. If you don't like the way we play, the softball fields are a few blocks down," he flippantly dismissed her before turning his back to her and jogging back down the court.

"Wait, what? You think that I can't appreciate the game because I'm a girl?" Anna responded furiously. She then proceeded to pack together a few of the chocolate wrappers next to her into a ball, tossing it at the giant, and hitting him square in the back. He froze. Turning around, it was apparent that the projectile had done him no damage, but he nevertheless was evidently enraged. "You little whore! Get over here!" he howled before taking off after her. Eyes opening wide in terror, Anna realized what she had done, quickly taking off for the exit of the park. Suddenly, somebody stepped in front of her, declaring, "Stop it, Marshmallow." Marshmallow stopped to look down at the boy who dared to challenge him. Hans. Little 5'6" Hans, was all that stood between Anna and god knows what.

"Give me one reason not to smash you and that bitch into the pavement," the beast demanded.

"Because I'll kick your ass if you take one step further. And you will refer to her as a young woman, not as 'bitch'," Hans growled at the massive man. "You don't scare me."

Cracking his knuckles, Marshmallow advanced, daring Hans, "Do your best," before cocking back his arm and swinging it straight towards Hans' jaw with terrifying force. However, the quicker Hans simply dodged the man's right hook, returning with a series of jabs to the face before kicking out the behemoth's legs from underneath him. Pinning the giant underneath his foot, Hans reminded him, "I said I was gonna kick your ass," before delivering a powerful kick to the teeth of the much larger man, knocking him senseless.

"I'm sorry, was this man bothering you?" Hans asked Anna.

"Yes, um, no. I mean, yes, but not anymore. You're gorgeous," she said before covering her mouth with her hands, shocked. "I can't believe I said that."

Hans simply chuckled saying, "I'm Hans. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?"

"Um, hi drea-, I mean Hans," Anna laughed nervously, "I'm Anna."

"Pleased to meet you, Anna," Hans said, before walking to the bench on the opposite side of the court. Anna was almost drooling at this point, causing me to decide that it would be better for me to let my play do the talking. As he threw on a jersey, I realized just who were about to go up against. _He plays for City fucking Elite._ Our rivalry was a fierce one, and at the last national tournament they had edged us out by a single point on a desperate three-pointer. _This is gonna be good_.

After a quick warm-up, both teams were ready for tip-off. Matching up with Hans, we exchanged knowing glances.

"Ready to get your ass kicked? I'm not settling for less than 40 and 10 today," he said, grinning.

"Not a chance, squirt. More like 4 and 1," I shot back with a smile. With that, the ball was tipped right into my hands. I quickly took two dribbles to advance the ball past half court, before quickly crossing over and putting up a three. _Swish._ _Here we go_.

Two minutes left. Comfortably ahead 59-50, I brought the ball up the court.

"We're still gonna win this thing," Hans asserted as I approached center court.

"Look at the scoreboa-," I was interrupted by the sight of Hans streaking towards our basket, having taken the ball while I was distracted. 59-52.

"I told you, we're gonna win," he grinned. Their team instantly set up a full court press, swarming the small forward who caught the inbound pass. Swiping the ball from the overmatched forward, Hans kicked the ball out to another member of his team in the corner for a 3. _Nothing but net_. 59-55. Unbelievably, the next play was almost a carbon copy of the last, except Hans delivered a pretty no-look pass to the opposite corner, again for a 3, which rattled in. 59-58, and we had only managed to run the clock down to 1:30.

"Get me a fucking timeout!" our coach yelled furiously.

"Full or thirty?" replied the ref.

"Full," said our exasperated coach, shaking his head.

As we got into the huddle, our coach began to tear into us, "Y'all know how to play this fucking game? 'Cause right now you guys are looking like a bunch of faggots out there. Show me that you aren't worthless pieces of shit, and fucking inbound the goddamn fucking ball to fucking Shields! Whitaker is a fucking SMALL FORWARD, not a PG, and doesn't take the fucking ball up last I checked. Get your fucking heads in the game, motherfuckers!" He gave each of us a slap on our heads as we went back into the game. "Jesus fucking Christ." This time, I got the ball, cutting through the defense past half court with a series of crossovers and spins, pirouetting like a ballerina.

Stalling for a full minute, with 30 seconds left, I went straight to the basket, finishing with my left hand and hearing the satisfying screech of the referee's whistle, promising an extra free throw. "AND-ONE, BABY!" I shouted ferociously, eyes searching the crowd for Anna. _If that doesn't impress her, I don't know what will_. I finally caught her, on the edge of her seat, eyes filled with excitement. Returning my glance, she gave me a huge thumbs-up. A warm feeling spread throughout my stomach as I went through my free-throw routine. _All me._ I put up the shot, but instantly knew I had put too much on the ball, as it clattered off the back of the rim and was snatched up by the other team's massive center. Hans calmly took the ball up the court despite my hounding defense.

"How'd you like that," I taunted. _15 seconds._

"Almost as much as you'll like what I have whipped up," Hans retorted. _Why is he stalling so long? _At five seconds, he was still just a couple steps beyond half court. Suddenly driving forwards, he came to a jump stop 25 feet from the basket. I tried to stop myself, but I my momentum forced me into the air. Drawing contact, Hans chucked the ball at the basket. _No way that thing goes in_. Right after the clock sounded zero, I heard the _swish_ of the net, which confirmed my worst fear; Hans could win the game with a free throw. As he lined up for the shot, he mockingly blew me a kiss, before sinking the foul shot. 62-61. Game over. We lost. Stunned, I stumbled to the bench, enduring the wrath of our coach for a full half-hour, before walking away, still shocked. I was pleasantly surprised to see Anna was still waiting for me at the park's exit.

"Tough loss, but hey, what are you gonna do?" she reassured me with her usual bubbly, excited manner, "You played great!" _God, you're so nice. And beautiful. You're fucking perfect._

"We lost," I murmured, "And it's all my fault." _Stop being such a downer; she's trying to make you feel better._

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself!" she retorted, placing a comforting arm around my shoulder, before quickly pulling it back, "Ugh, you're sweaty!" she teased me, giggling.

I laughed softly. _Oh Anna, I don't deserve you._ I turned to her, staring straight at her face. I looked down into her eyes, like pools filled with sparkling turquoise, for what seemed to be an eternity; her lips were painfully close to touching mine. _What are you waiting for, pussy. Now or never, get it on!_ But I couldn't do it. I couldn't grasp what I wanted most; it was right in front of me and I simply couldn't take it, and I'll never know _why_. Maybe I wasn't confident enough; maybe I wasn't brave enough to face what a kiss would entail. Maybe I was too fearful of the unknown, of a relationship, of everything and anything. In my cowardice, I broke my gaze, and bid farewell, "Goodbye, Anna." I turned, a single tear spilling from my eye. _God fucking dammit._


	3. Leaving

"Honey, are you alright?" my mother asked as I came through the door.

_Fuck, she can see I've been crying._

"Um, yeah, yeah, don't worry," _If only you knew._

"Dear, I know when you're lying to me." My mother had an uncanny ability to tell when I was lying. "If you want to talk, I'm always here for you," my mother replied soothingly.

"I'll be fine," I assured her, rubbing my eyes. I went to my room to sulk, my dreams once again dashed to pieces by my paralyzing cowardice. Collapsing onto my bed, I was emotionally spent. _Goddammit, David. What's wrong with you? You want to have a normal relationship some day? Stop being such a faggot and grow some balls!_ "Ugh…" I groaned as the strain of the basketball game took its toll, snapping my train of thought with a searing pain.

"Mom!"

"Yes, honey?"

"I need an ice pack."

"One second, dear." My mother was never hesitant to tend to my every need. With her career as a successful violinist ended by a broken wrist, she was completely free to dote on what she loved most – me.

"Here you are, dear," she said, giving me icy relief.

"You're a saint."

Just as my mother was leaving, I sat up, asking, "Why is life so unfair?"

Turning to me with a concerned look on her face, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, "I can't imagine what you're going through that would make you ask that, but I can assure you it's not. It will get better; I promise," she assured me before delivering a light kiss to my forehead and exiting the room. Limping over to my computer, I started up Team Fortress 2. As great as basketball was, I needed other outlets for my stress. Slipping on the headpiece, I addressed my teammates for the round, "Alright guys, who's ready to go out there and kick some ass?

Every Sunday, we would go to church. The services were not terrible; the musicians were somewhat talented and the sermons were usually not intolerably boring, and the possibility of a forty-minute power nap was always open if the sermon was indeed unusually dry. However, this Sunday I was not in the mood to go to church. I wasn't in the mood to go anywhere or do anything. So, when my father came in to demand that I wake up, my answer was simple, "No."

"What do you mean no? We go every week, no questions asked. Get out of bed now," he snapped.

_What are you getting yourself into, Shields? _"I said, 'no'."

A frustrated look spreading across his face, he began to raise his voice, "David, I'm not kidding. Church is an essential part of your connection with God. You must confess your sins. Of which I am sure there are many."

"What don't you understand about 'no'?" _You're done, Shields._

Absolutely furious, my father took a vise-like grip around my shoulders and dragged me out of bed, dropping me onto the floor.

"You disgusting brat. You're too lazy to even get out of bed to do your duty to God. You are coming to this service whether you would like to or not. No questions asked. Are we in understanding?"

"No."

"If you say no one more time, so help me God, I will – "

"What? You'll do what? You'll keep me from hanging out with the friends I don't have? You'll take away the Xbox I don't have? What the fuck can you do to me? God doesn't care about me or you, so you can stop wasting our collective time," I cried incredulously, "Nobody cares about me," I said, melting into tears. _Shit. You couldn't even keep yourself together for 24 hours. You have no control._

"You are so weak. You are unbelievably spoiled. You are a vile child and I cannot even look upon you. You have everything you could possibly ask for and more, and you break down in tears when I ask you once to go to church. I'm fed up with you and your repulsive attitude. You are a disappointment to this family and you might as well not even be a part of it."

"Fuck you. You're always talking about family, but really this just boils down to you. What you want. Why don't you love me like my mother does?" _Oh no, what have you gotten yourself into now?_

"Because you're a pathetic excuse for a human being," he replied coldly.

My mother burst into the room, "James, what are you saying? He's our son!"

"He's no son of mine!" my father growled in reply, "He's nothing to me anymore."

Tears sprung from my mother's eyes, "Don't you remember how proud of him you were when he was born? When he took his first steps? Don't you remember?"

Now devoid of emotion, he replied simply, "No. That was another child."

Throwing her arms around me in a deep embrace, she sobbed, "You will always be my son. Always."

"He's not my son, he's not your son. He's nobody; he's worthless."

"James, please! He is our _son_. I love you, but how can you speak like that about your own child?"

"Get your hands off that filth," James Shields commanded. _No. No. I will not stand for this shit anymore._ Gently taking my mother's hands off of me, I took up my wallet and phone and began to leave the room.

"What do you think you're doing? I'm not done with you!" my father shouted after me. In response I simply raised both my middle fingers and ran straight out the door without turning my back. "Get back here, _RIGHT NOW, DAVID SHIELDS_!" Was all I heard as I tore off down the block.

_What the fuck am I going to do now?_ I stumbled to the street in a daze. _Where am I going to get food, water, shelter, anything? _Briefly, I considered going to the police, but once again, my will failed me. _What if he gets off? What would he do to me then? What if they side with him?_ Left alone and without options, I went to the one place where I knew I could find something secure.

I had previously thought of the King Agdar I Public Arendellian Library as a home away from home, somewhere I could escape the troubles of daily life by burying myself in my work, stockpiling karma on Reddit, or curling up with a great book. Now, I needed it more than ever. Finding the graphic novel section, I took up _The Killing Joke_ for what must have been the millionth time. Instantly absorbed, the outside world faded away, slowly fading into black while my mind's eye began to bring the story before my eyes to life. Just as the Joker pulled the trigger on Barbara Gordon, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Turning around, I began, "Hey, I was rea- " but was instantly cut off. Before my eyes was none other than Elsa Halvorsen.

"Mr. Shields!" she said smiling, "I didn't think of you as the graphic novel type."

"Um, I'm not. Usually. Sometimes. I don't know."

She chuckled. "Well, I just started volunteering here because my library helped me with many things while I was around your age," she furrowed her brow, "Certain… circumstances prevented me from interacting with others. But it's not my job to tell you my sob story. Enjoy your novel, by the way," she said, parting, "I've always loved Frank Miller." _Maybe she's not as icy as I thought._

After tearing through a series of Miller's finest works and starting a heated discussion on the best point guard in the NBA on Facebook with Hans, I was startled by the announcement from the head librarian, a kindly old maid by the name of Gerda, that the library would close in ten minutes. _7:50, holy shit._ I began to panic as one concern shot to the forefront of my brain, _where am I going to sleep tonight? Homeless shelter? _The food was bad, the other homeless worse, and as a 15 year old boy, people would inevitably begin to ask questions about why I was in a homeless shelter at such a tender age. _The park? _The frequent nighttime firefights that broke out there between rival gangs made even considering the park a foolish decision. _Home?_ This decision seemed to be the most logical of all, but I doubted whether _he_ would ever let me within 20 yards of the house without blasting me with a shotgun. Whatever punishment he was devising within his head for whenever he did manage to find me would undoubtedly come to make the beatings that came after subpar grades or basketball games look like child's play._ Look at what you've done now. You're homeless, a bum at age 15. Who could possibly manage to fuck up their life so badly other than you?_

Panicking, I emptied my pockets, looking for a course of action. Seeing no bills, I emptied the change into my hand. _No bed and breakfast for 42 cents a night. _Staring at my phone, I saw five missed calls from my mother. _You deserve better than this, mom_. I realized that it was essentially my final option for finding a room that night. Quickly I pulled up my contacts and saw the first name on the list – Anna. Suddenly, I realized that I was really without friends at this new school. Or just in general. _Fuck it, I need to sleep somewhere tonight. _I hit call. The dial tone began to ring. _Pick up, pick up, pi-_

"Hello? David?"

"Hey, Anna…"

"What's up?" she replied enthusiastically.

_Here goes nothing. _"Um, maybe, I might be able… to…"

She giggled. "Be able to what?"

"… Sleep over at your house?" I suggested shakily. _Great, now the only friend you have at this school thinks you have some sort of weird attachment issues or something. Fucking fantastic._

"Wait, what? Um…" _Wow, what did you expect, you creep?_ "Sure!"

"Are you serious?" I replied, shocked.

"Yeah, sure, why wouldn't I be? Unless I was lying. Which I wasn't. I really hate it when people lie, anyways I'm rambling."

"Um, where do you live?" I asked still half-stunned by her response.

"2 Snow Lane. See ya!" She hung up.

"See ya…" I replied by instinct. _Maybe God doesn't hate me._


End file.
